She jerked again as the doctors shocked her for the second time. The first time, I feared she had died, but this time, she came back to life. There was a pulse, followed by a beep.

“She’s stable,” someone said as the rhythmical beep continued.

“Give me information on her vitals,” the doctor asked as they wheeled her into the emergency room. I tried to follow them, but they wouldn’t let me.

“Sir, I need you to wait in the lobby,” said one of the nurses.

“I will, but promise me she will be fine.”

“Sir, I assure you, we will do everything we can to take care of her. I just need you to wait here,” the nurse replied.

***

As I sat in the lobby, my mind flashed back to the accident. A part of me didn’t want to recall the scary scenes, yet the other part of me couldn’t help but remember. It all happened so fast; one minute we were talking about the future, the next minute we were in different worlds.

That day, we left home at noon hoping that we would reach our destination within the hour. We had just travelled a little above half the journey when Emily started a new topic.

“What do you think you would look like fifty years from now?” she asked.

We all laughed hysterically. ‘What would I look like in fifty years’ time?’ I wondered.

Ann was the first to answer, with her eyes closed and like a prophetess in a trance, “Hmm, fifty years from now, I see Dean walking around with a walker, his head completely bald and his skin would be like grandpa’s.”

“Why are you starting with me, Ann?” I asked. “Emily asked the question about the future, you should have done her the honour of saying hers first, or yours,” I said jokingly.

I tried to remind them that I am still in my early thirties. My head is already showing signs of baldness, so maybe she was right about the baldness of fifty-years-from-now Dean, but she was wrong about the walker. By all standards, I am physically fit. I still have my road walk every morning and work out at the gym on weekends. What would I need a walker for at eighty. If I would need a walking aid at all, it would be a fancy walking stick.

As I made my point, I tapped Emily on the shoulder from the back and asked, “So, Emily, what do you think you’d look like fifty years from now?”

“Oh,” she said, “You really want to know?”

“Of course, we do!” Ann and I said together, leaning forward to hear her.

“In fifty years’ time, I will be…”

She couldn’t finish her statement before we heard a bang. Then, silence. Dead silence. For a moment, I thought I was dead. I heard nothing, saw nothing, and did nothing. I was conscious, but it didn’t appear so until I opened my eyes.

Sam, mom’s driver, was the first to speak. “Is everybody okay?” he asked.

Emily couldn’t answer! The accident had a direct impact on her. Sam was just about making a bend at the roundabout when another bus driver hit our car from Emily’s side. The car was already fallen sideways, resting on the driver’s side. I crawled out through the window on my side, and pulled Ann out. Sam was hurt in his legs, but he helped to push Emily out before crawling out too.

“She’s not breathing! Please call the ambulance,” I said.

The accident was already blocking all traffic at the roundabout but the driver of the bus had fled the scene. While Ann made the call, I did all I could to keep Emily warm.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. You will soon be fine. Emily! Emily! Can you hear me? Nod if you can hear me. Emily…”

The ambulance had not arrived when someone offered us a ride to a nearby hospital. The man drove as fast and cautious as he could. In no time, we were at the hospital. We all alighted as Emily was laid on the stretcher and wheeled into the hospital.

Ann and Sam had to go in for treatment while I promised to stay with Emily.

“Doctor, I think she’s unconscious. It was an accident. Please help us,” I said, panicking.

Upon examination, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation (CPR) was immediately administered. Still, there was no pulse, so they gave her a shot of epinephrine and started defibrillation.

“Clear?” asked the doctor.

“Clear!” came the response.

I looked with hope as the pads came on her chest. She jacked but not for long. She’s still not breathing. I began to fear more as they continued to wheel her as quickly as possible inside, monitoring her pulse. Still, there was nothing.

“Clear?” the doctor asked again.

“Clear!” the response came.

She jerked again as the doctors shocked her for the second time. The first time, I feared she had died, but this time, she came back to life. There was a pulse followed by a beep.

“She’s stable,” someone said as the rhythmical beep continued.

“Give me information on her vitals,” the doctor asked as they wheeled her into the emergency room. I tried to follow them, but they wouldn’t let me.

“Sir, I need you to wait in the lobby,” said one of the nurses.

“I will, but promise me she will be fine.”

“Sir, I assure you, we will do everything we can to take care of her. I just need you to wait here,” the nurse replied.

***

There I was, anxiously waiting for someone to come out of that room. My mind still struggling with the question Emily asked. We were looking into the future that was fifty years ahead when none of us knew what would happen in the next moment.

I started asking myself some heart-searching questions, ‘What if I was the one who sat where Emily sat?’ ‘What if I had died?’ ‘Where would I spend eternity?’ ‘Am I prepared for life after death?’

I began to pray, sobbing in-between: “Lord, I cannot remember the last time I prayed to you, but I know you can hear me. I have gone through life thinking I could make it on my own, but right now, I see the shortness of life itself. I am returning to you today. I’m sorry for all the wrong things I’ve done. I feel so sorry, Lord. I need your forgiveness. Please, let Emily be okay. Please Lord…”

I was lost in my prayer when I felt someone tap me, “Are you Dean?” Asked the nurse.

I went in very quickly. She had a smile on face. Emily always wears a smile. It’s one of the sweetest things about her.

“Dean,” she called, smiling as always.

“How are you feeling now, dear? Are you okay?” I asked impatiently, holding her arm.

“I’m fine, the doctors said I need to rest. But, I feel fine,” she replied.

“That’s good,” I said, feeling relieved.

As I sat beside her, it appeared to all that she got a second chance to live, but the chance was actually mine. Emily loves God. She has lived for Him up till now. It was another chance for me to live for God; to reciprocate His love by living for Him from day to day; to make good my promise.

In a quite tone, I promised God to do just that as I watched Emily fall asleep.